


Skin Horse

by CrossingInStyle



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: And good things too, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Gen, Just to be safe, Wish!Rumple being a jerk, also anti-Hook, because I see Wish!Rumple's inner monologue as having a lot of F words, but Wish!Neal is kinda also, but also romance!, kind of anti-Emma, quite a lot of cursing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-14 12:01:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14769228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrossingInStyle/pseuds/CrossingInStyle
Summary: After Wish!Rumple dies, he wakes up in the Underworld. There he meets to wish versions of the people he knew...and loved.Based on a Tumblr Post.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, okay, I know I should finish Petticoat of Arms before posting anything else but, here, have it anyway!! lol. This is based on a Tumblr post about Wish!Rumple going to the Underworld and meeting the wish versions of Neal and Belle.
> 
> There will be quite a bit of angst initially, as I explore a bit of how the Wish people feel about, well, existing. Also wish!Rumple has a lot of anger and resentment that Rumple never had, so bear with him on that!

> _"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long, time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."_
> 
> _"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit._
> 
> _"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real, you don't mind being hurt."_
> 
>  
> 
> _-The Velveteen Rabbit_

* * *

 

He wasn’t really sure what he’d expected. But then, he’d never _expected_ to die at all.

But even if he stretched back into his long-ago memories of his mortal life, death wasn’t at all what he would have thought.

It wasn’t painful; but then he hadn’t been stabbed to death or anything. Just simply evaporated into dust like the fucking fairies he enjoyed killing.

There had been no tunnel of light; but then maybe that was only for people ascending to a _better_ place.

He knew damn well that wasn’t happening to him.

He wondered if it happened to _him_. The other him. The him who thought himself to be _so_ superior.

He scoffed, not liking to think on _him_ at all. What with his disgusting speech about _love_ and _goodness._ He’d become that loathsome, worthless spinner all over again and for what? A chit with pretty blue eyes.

He shuddered when he thought of what he’d found once he’d been released from that cell. He’d done the _right_ thing. He’d gone _right_ out to see that she was okay. All he’d wanted was to know that she was alright, and had been living a peaceful life since the day he’d thrown her out. Happy and free of him.

And what had he found when he’d used the locator spell? A pile of fucking bones, bleached white with age.

And it wasn’t even like she’d grown older and passed away, or befallen some accident. She’d been locked away, much like him. But when those supposed _heroes_ defeated Regina, did they never even _think_ to investigate her damned castle?! To make sure she hadn’t been keeping innocent women locked away for goddamned NOTHING?!

No, and as a result Belle had starved to death locked in a tower, all alone. No knight or prince to save her.

Fuck, the one knight who _might_ have saved her…he’d turned into a _rose_.

Bile rose up in his throat and he clenched his fists, trying to banish the thought from his mind. She was _nothing_. Just a woman who had been in his life a mere blink in the scale of how long he had lived. He’d never even fucked her.

_Him_ , the other him, the one who was so self-righteous…he’d cried and whined because his wife was gone after spending a _life_ with her. How was that fair? _His_ Belle had barely gotten to live at all!

NO…not his Belle. She’d never been his. She’d never been _anybody’s_.

It was better just to forget. Spin and forget. Forget that she’d died a slow and painful death. Forget his son had never so much as _visited_ his cell…much less set him free.

No, definitely don’t think about _that_. It was the _rest_ of the world…the _worlds_ he wanted to hate. Not his son. Not Baelfire.

But there were times it was very, very difficult not to.

 

“Rumple…Rumplestiltskin?!”

The idiotic man blinked at him in astonishment. Rumplestiltskin didn’t recognize him, but then again, he could have killed him decades ago and he’d never have thought of it.

Wherever death had taken him, it didn’t really seem like Hell. Unless his version of Hell was just a very, very boring place.

“Rumple?”

Well, this was a surprise.

“Cruella,” he nodded at her. “I can’t say I’m surprised that death has found _you_.”

Cruella looked at him oddly, and glanced over at the stupid bearded man.

“No, Cru, he isn’t the one you know,” the idiot said, checking his clipboard. “This is Rumplestiltskin from an alternate universe.”

Cruella rolled her eyes. “Alternate universes. Why am I not surprised? But you know me too, then darling?”

So this Cruella wasn’t the one he’d kept as a guard dog all those years…and occasional bed-warmer.

“Intimately,” he sneered at her, pleased when she balked.

“My name is Arthur,” the idiot said. “I run things down here.”

“And here would be…”

“The Underworld, of course.”

Rumplestiltskin bared his teeth. “I thought _Hades_ ran the Underworld.”

“Hades is dead, darling,” Cruella informed him. “If you’re here, then you must have Unfinished Business.”

He chortled. “My business can never be _finished_ until I have _all_ the Dark One’s power and that pathetic excuse for Rumplestiltskin’s _neck_ in my hands!”

Arthur laughed, and Rumplestiltskin began wondering if it was possible to cause people pain here, if he couldn’t kill them.

“You’ll be here forever, then,” Arthur said. “The Dark One is gone…from _all_ the realms. Everyone is talking about it.”

“And Rumplestiltskin himself has died,” Cruella put in. “…The other one, I mean. But he went straight up to the Good Place.”

“Of course he did,” Rumplestiltskin drawled. “With his pwecious Belle, I’m sure.”

Arthur snorted. “Wouldn’t you?” he said, a suggestive glint in his eye.

Rumplestiltskin’s hand shot out, meaning to choke the imbecile…but nothing happened.

“Nice try,” Arthur said, both he and Cruella laughing. “I just told you, the Dark Curse is _gone_. And even if it wasn’t, you’re _dead_. You have no magic here.”

Rumplestiltskin leaned in close. “But I bet I can _still_ find ways to make your afterlife miserable.”

“I’m sure,” Arthur said, unperturbed. “Look, if you don’t want my help settling in…”

“Just stay away from me,” Rumplestiltskin hissed, shouldering past the pissant.

He _hated_ this. He was _powerless…_ weak. No better than that goddamned fucking _spinner_.

He held his hands up, irritated instead of relieved to see pale, callused skin instead of green scales.

The underworld looked similar to that odd place his _other_ version had lived. A small, quant-seeming town. It was disgusting.

People stared at him with wide eyes, and the ones whose eyes flashed in recognition crossed the street to be away from him. Good.

So what the hell was he supposed to _do_ here? There had to be away to get _out._ Get back to the land of the living. He couldn’t murder his other version if he was already dead…but he could delight in slaughtering the Queen, the pirate, and those children he’d tried so hard to _protect_.

It was nice to have a plan, at least.

“I know that look, and it isn’t going to work.”

Rumplestiltskin spun around, eyes widening to see a form he really only recognized from an ugly portrait in that _Charming_ palace.

“…Baelfire?”

“Hello, Father,” Bae said, arms crossing, staying a distance away. “I’m not exactly surprised that you ended up here too. But I know what you’re thinking, and you can’t escape. You can’t _un_ die, no matter what Dr. Frankenstein would like.”

“And why are _you_ here?” Rumplestiltskin asked, despising the way his voice cracked. Loathing the way that…despite the anger…despite the…the _hatred_ , all he wanted to do was go and wrap his boy up in his arms and never let go. “Can’t see why you’d have unfinished business. Had a right good life, didn’t you? Marrying a princess…”

Bae shrugged. “It wasn’t completely real. We were created with a wish. I _remember_ being alive, when in truth I came into existence already wasting away in this place,” Bae glared at him, dark eyes blazing. “I got to watch as _you_ tried to turn my son to darkness.”

Rumplestiltskin giggled. “And it was remarkably easy! Think he’ll wind up here too, someday? Then we can have a proper family reunion!”

“You stay the _hell_ away from my son!” Bae snapped, stepping closer to jab a finger at Rumplestiltskin’s chest. “Even if he _does_ end up here, which he won’t because he’s with people now who _love_ him! Listen…when I heard you were here I had to see you. A part of me hoped…hell, I thought maybe telling you off might be my train ticket out of here. But I don’t fucking care! We may both be stuck here, but I don’t want to see you, you understand me?”

“In death, as it was in life,” Rumplestiltskin trilled, not back away even when he considerably taller son crowded him in.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Rumplestiltskin growled, his temper close to snapping. “Will you lock me in a cage here, too, _son_? I suppose I should be grateful of the _slop_ I was given. At least I wasn’t left to _starve_.”

“Your getting locked up was _your_ fault, not mine.”

“Everything I ever did was for _you_ , you ungrateful little…”

Bae scoffed, and Rumplestiltskin wondered if he had any idea how much he sounded like him. “Ungrateful?! You mean you expect me to be _grateful_ you let me go alone through a portal when you had the chance to be with me? Or is it, grateful that you nearly ripped apart the entire _realm_ to cast a Dark Curse?”

“It was the only way I knew to _get_ to you!” Rumplestiltskin snapped, his voice beginning to raise.

“Bullshit! I got back _just fine_ without any damned curse! _Without_ your help!”

“You never even told me! I had to hear from a fucking guard that you were in the realm…under a different name, of course. Didn’t want anyone to know who you were if you were to marry _Emma_.”

“Don’t fucking say her name! I loved her, and yeah, I didn’t tell her who I was. Like you could _possibly_ understand about love!”

“You’re right!” Rumplestiltskin shouted, not paying attention to the fact that the streets had cleared, everyone seeming to have run for cover. “I know nothing of love! And you…oh _you_ are just a paragon of love then! Love, and goodness! Good enough to let your own father rot in a cell…”

“You _deserved_ your punishment! And I couldn’t see you…didn’t want to see you that…”

“I COULD HAVE SAVED HER IF YOU HAD LET ME OUT!”

Baelfire breathed in, blinking in confusion, and it took Rumplestiltskin a full minute to realize what he’d said.

“ _Her_?” Baelfire asked in a quiet voice. “What are you talking about? Who’s _her_?”

Rumplestiltskin snarled and turned to walk away. “Forget it.”

“No!” Baelfire jogged to catch up, grabbing Rumplestiltskin’s arm, and he tried to pretend that he wasn’t frozen as surely as if Bae had been holding the dagger. “Who the hell is _she_ and what do you mean, you could have saved her?”

“She’d locked her away,” Rumplestiltskin growled out, nearly in a whisper, not looking at Bae. “ _Regina_. She’d done nothing… _nothing_. Save her… _association_ with me. Regina locked her away and…your precious _in-laws_ never looked in the tower. No one did. She was up there…and no one ever…” he broke off then, fucking _damned_ if he started to get emotional.”

“God…” Baelfire whispered. “Pa...Rumplestiltskin…if what you’re saying…if this…woman had been locked up during Regina’s reign, then…I wasn’t in the realm at the time. I was still just a kid in the Land Without Magic. By the time I got  back…”

Rumplestiltskin clenched his jaw, still not looking at him.

“You’re sure she didn’t…escape or anything?”

Rumplestiltskin let out a manic chuckle. “No. She died, all alone. There were bars on the window…she couldn’t even throw herself off the tower to end it faster.”

“Who was she?”

“No one. Just the maid.”

Without ever meeting Baelfire’s eye again, Rumplestiltskin walked away, and this time, Bae didn’t stop him.

God, he was becoming as big a crybaby as his _other_ self. It was pathetic.

It unnerved him that he’d truly had no idea _how_ long he’d been locked in that cell. When Baelfire had explained that he had still been a child at the time of Regina’s defeat, it finally clicked with Rumplestiltskin.

He supposed it was a quirk of the way he’d been _wished_ up suddenly. And wasn’t that just lovely? An entire realm of people, wished out of thin-air with entire lives and thoughts and feelings and pain. But they didn’t just blink out of existence again once the beloved Emma was done with them, no, they continued living. Living a confusing half-life of someone who shouldn’t, by rights, _exist_. Living a life where they all must be aware by now that they’re not the _real_ versions. Only unnatural copies.

As if it wasn’t unfair enough just be _born_. They’d all had to appear for no reason whatsoever.

While talking to Baelfire, Rumplestiltskin had a quick, wild moment where he wondered about her. About Belle. But no…Belle wouldn’t be here. She’d be in Heaven, or the Good Place, or whatever it was. He supposed she was up there with the _other_ him, and the _other_ Belle and…well, he _was_ a disgustingly lucky bastard, wasn’t he?

He allowed himself to fantasize while his feet brought him automatically to a large, pink house, that he knew, instinctively somehow, was for him.

Ah, and this must be cosmic humor. Pink? Really?

But it didn’t really matter to him. He was tired. More tired than he remembered ever being in life. Did the dead sleep?

He opened the door to the house, noting that it was filled with all manner of bric-a-brac. But he ignored it all and headed to where he somehow knew the bed was. It was a large, lonely bed, but the sight of it was surprisingly inviting.

Rumplestiltskin hadn’t slept in over 200 years, but his eyes closed the moment his head touched the pillow. His last thoughts being of two pairs of eyes. One brown and unforgiving, the other blue...and sad.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little progress is made between Rumple and Neal, plus we see another familiar face.

When Rumplestiltskin woke up, he didn’t feel rested at all, but neither did he feel like he could still sleep, so he rolled out of bed anyway.

He was still wearing his leathers and his dragon hide coat, but a peek inside the bedroom’s closet revealed, bafflingly enough, a row of outfits he seemed to remember seeing in Hyperion Heights. Something in his infinite memory supplied, “suits.”

Ugly.

He slipped off his coat, but kept the rest of his clothes. He may not be the Dark One any longer, but damned if he was going to start dressing like his lesser half.

As he walked down the stairs, he paid more attention to the clutter than he had the night before. What _was_ all this stuff? Statuettes, chess boards, weird tools.

Rumplestiltskin decided that he’d sift through the things later, to see if he couldn’t find anything with magical properties. It would be so easy for one of the morons who ran this place to overlook something as innocuous as something like a hairbrush when really it could have the power to give _him_ power, if not the ability to leave or pass on.

Because really, if he couldn’t get back to the land of the living, becoming the king of Hell was a decent consolation prize.

A thump caught his attention, and he growled, wondering who was poking through the house. If someone came in insisting the house belonged to _them_ , well, too fucking bad.

He entered the kitchen only to find Baelfire sitting at the table.

“What are _you_ doing here?” he asked.

“I was gonna break in, but the door wasn’t even locked,” Bae said.

Rumple rolled his eyes and moved further into the kitchen, annoyed that after centuries of never once feeling the pang of hunger, only now in _death_ would he find that he needed to eat.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” he said, poking through the cupboards. “What happened to…” he changed his voice, pitching it high and mocking as he twirled his hand around in the way he knew unnerved people. “ _Stay away from me! I never want to see you again_! I believe it’s a two-way street, boy.”

“Do you _want_ me to stay away from you?” Bae asked in a low voice.

Rumplestiltskin glanced at him from the corner of his eye, feeling a jab in his chest to see his boy there, looking small and hurt at the table…so much like he did the day he’d had to tell him his mother was never coming home.

It was on the tip of his tongue to just _say_ it. Yes, I want you to stay away. I don’t want to see your beloved face only to remember the way you abandoned me like every fucking other person in my life. I don’t want to remember the way I abandoned _you_. I want to wallow in my hate. I don’t _need_ you.

But he couldn’t.

“No,” he whispered.

“I heard about what happened,” Bae said, changing the subject. “How you…and _he…_ died. I can’t believe _any_ version of you would sacrifice his life for _Captain Hook_ of all people.”

Rumplestiltskin snorted, slamming the cupboard when he couldn’t find anything edible. “Disgusting, isn’t it?”

Bae rolled his eyes. “No…you threatening _my son_ along with a bunch of kids is disgusting. This wife of his that he was so determined to reach…it wasn’t Milah. It was _her_ , wasn’t it? The one you spoke about?”

“I don’t recall,” he trilled, sitting at the table. “It was sooo long ago.”

But Baelfire just plowed on, ignoring him. “Everyone says it was because of her that the other Rumplestiltskin was good in the end.”

“Yes, yes,” Rumplestiltskin flapped his hand dismissively. “Twue wuv, and all that _shit_.”

“I don’t believe it.”

That caught Rumplestiltskin’s attention, and he narrowed his eyes at his son. “What do you mean?”

“I _mean_ , I don’t believe that she was the _only_ reason he was good. I don’t believe that the mere presence or absence of someone in a person’s life dictates who they are that way. I can see where others would think it…but they don’t know you like I do. They don’t know that…that you were a good man…once before.”

Rumplestiltskin huffed. “For all that, you could argue that _your_ absence is what made me what I am…” he giggled. “I guess I just needed a chaperone.”

“I’m trying to be serious,” Bae said crossly. “You’re not _incapable_ of good without me or… _her_ in your life. I think it’s just that without, you know, _love_ …you stopped seeing the point.”

“Are you quite done psychoanalyzing me?” Rumplestiltskin sighed, leaving the table. “Because I am _quite_ done. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to see what mayhem I can cause.”

“I know where you can get good food,” Baelfire said, following him. “We may be in the Underworld, but you’d be surprised by how good the food can be.”

 

“Those of us who ended up here from the Wish Realm all sort of stick around this area of town,” Baelfire explained as they walked down the sidewalk. “Makes things easier, I guess, so we know who we’re talking to.”

“Sounds more like segregation,” Rumplestiltskin mused, noticing that this side of town seemed a bit seedier-looking than where he’d first entered. “Makes one wonder how the “Wish People” are faring in the land of the living.”

Bae shrugged. “Guess it might be much the same. We’re carbon copies, pale imitations of the real deal.”

Rumplestiltskin cut his eyes over to his son. “Who told you _that_?”

He chuckled. “Arthur. You should have met him when you arrived. He’s a complete asshole though. Ignore him.”

“The people I don’t ignore, I torment, so it might be best if the good king steer clear of _me_.”

Baelfire sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You’re a joy to have around…as usual.”

They entered what amounted to a tavern or pub, and took seats. At least in here, though, people seemed to be more or less ignoring Rumplestiltskin. He honestly didn’t know if that was a relief, or an annoyance.

“The burgers are good,” Baelfire said, taking a seat at a table and leaving Rumplestiltskin to follow suit. “But the pizza is shit, don’t order that.”

“I don’t know what either of those _are_ ,” Rumplestiltskin said peevishly, all the more irritated to realize it was true. Usually things just came to him automatically, provided from his long life of studying other worlds, or from the Curse which had lived a hundred lives.

Baelfire ordered “burgers” and beer for the both of them, their waitress being a silent, pale girl who looked more dead than anyone Rumplestiltskin had met so far.

“So what do you _do_ down here?” Rumplestiltskin asked. “Is this it? Do we just pitter around for the rest of eternity?”

“Some do, I guess,” Bae said. “But the goal everyone here has is to move on. Up to, you know,” he pointed up.

Rumplestiltskin glanced up. “Upstairs?” he said flatly. “Is that where the prostitutes are?”

“ _No_ ,” Bae groaned. “Truthfully no one really _knows_ what happens once you pass on. Because…well…people don’t come _back_. All I know is your soul is finally at peace. The reason we…everyone…is here, is because we have Unfinished Business.”

“Oh?” Rumplestiltskin arched a brow. “And what is _your_ Unfinished Business?”

Baelfire scowled. “If I knew that, I wouldn’t damn well be here, would I? That’s what our lives are here, figuring out what our Unfinished Business is so we can _finish_ it.”

“Oh _I see_ …that’s what you meant that you hoped telling me off you let you move on. So…now what? You think being _nice_ to me will do the trick?”

“Yeah? So what if that _is_ what I’m doing, huh? Can you blame me?”

Rumplestiltskin wanted to parry back with another snarky response, but none was forthcoming. Truth was he _didn’t_ blame Bae, not a bit. And if this _was_ his Unfinished Business, then Rumplestiltskin sure as hell wasn’t going to make it _easy_ for him. Because then he would be gone…and Rumplestiltskin wasn’t fool enough to think he stood a chance in…well, a chance in _hell_ of ever being at _peace_.

While he tried to think of something else to say, he became aware of a lurking presence next to their table, and it wasn’t the waifish girl.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the old _imp_.”

Rumplestiltskin bit his tongue and inwardly groaned. “Fuck…” he muttered. “You’re here _too_?”

“You know it!” Jefferson exclaimed gleefully, dragging a chair from another table with a migraine-inducing _screech_. “Dead as a doorknob. Tried to use one of your potions while you were locked in the clink and it…didn’t go well.”

“Serves you right,” Rumplestiltskin hissed.

“Friend of yours?” Baelfire asked.

“More like an obnoxious boil on my _arse_ that seems to have followed me to Hell.”

“Would that I could be so lucky,” Jefferson chirped, grinning as madly as always. “So what the hell finally did _you_ in? Weren’t you all,” he wiggled his fingers in a poor imitation of Rumplestiltskin’s mannerisms. “Immortal and whatnot? And green? Or are you just visiting? ‘Cause I hear the, you know, _other_ you did that once.”

“Oh yes, and he walked on water too, I’m sure,” Rumplestiltskin drawled.

“So you’re really dead,” Jefferson continued. “Imagine that. And aren’t you going to introduce me to your handsome young friend here?”

Bae raised his eyebrows in mild alarm, but Rumplestiltskin only rolled his eyes. “This is my _son_ , Baelfire. _You_ stay the fuck away from him.”

“Call me Neal,” Bae said, extending his hand to shake Jefferson’s.

“Ohhh…” Jefferson said, eyes widening. “ _Prince_ Neal? You were married to Princess Emma. At least…in one variation of the tale.”

Rumplestiltskin noticed how Bae’s shoulders slumped ever so slightly. “Erm, yeah.”

“Betcha can’t wait for her to kick the bucket for some reunion time!” Jefferson looked around, as if they weren’t sharing the pub with only a smattering of other people. “Say, is your mother in the Underworld? Cause I gotta say, I’m dying to get a look at the woman who dared screwed _this_ …”

“That is quite enough,” Rumplestiltskin snapped. “Don’t you have someone else to bother?”

Jefferson held up his hands. “Alright, alright, I’ll go. Just promise me you’ll let me show you some of the Underworld’s nightlife sometime. You know, now that you’re not all scaly I bet you could get some…”

“Jefferson, I may not be able to turn you into a snail, but I swear that I will find a way to shove you into one’s shell if you don’t leave right now.”

With an impetuous grin, Jefferson tipped his hat and sauntered out of the pub.

“If anything, death only made that maniac _more_ annoying,” Rumplestiltskin sneered, staring in suspicion at the “burger” being placed before him.

“But he’s not afraid of you,” Bae pointed out. “That’s something.”

Rumplestiltskin looked up, noticing his son was only poking at the food he’d been so excited about moments ago. “What? Is it what he said about your mother? _Is_ she here?”

“No,” Bae said. “But then, I don’t think she’s anywhere. I don’t think the Wish cooked her up. But it’s fine, I’d have no desire to meet her.”

Rumplestiltskin was ready to ignore Bae’s sudden mood, but it was more curiosity than concern that made him pry. “Then what? Jefferson wasn’t _really_ propositioning you, you know. He does that to everybody…”

“Emma,” Bae said, nearly spitting the name, which surprised Rumplestiltskin.

“I thought you were quite fond of your wife,” he said, spitting the word “wife” in the same manner.

“I love her more than anything,” Bae said hotly. “It’s just…what Jefferson was saying, about looking forward to her dying. Which I _don’t,_ of course. I want her to live to be 100 years old and die peacefully, with no need to come here…but…”

Rumplestiltskin shrugged. “So? You’ll finish your Unfinished Business and be waiting for her.”

“But she won’t be there for _me_ ,” Bae continued. “We were never in a relationship, not so far as she’s concerned. There _is_ no Wish version of Emma, because she _was_ the wish. She was in love, and had a child with the _real_ Neal. And now she’s married to fucking Captain Hook.”

Rumplestiltskin grimaced. “Ew… _really_? She _does_ know that he and your mother…”

Bae held out his palm to stop him. “Yeah, yeah, I’m electing to ignore that. Beside the point. When the time comes for Emma to die, she’ll have _two_ men on the other side for her. There won’t be any room for me. Did you know Emma’s Wish parents are here? They were murdered right in front of her…and she’s never mourned them. They weren’t _real_ to her.”

“She sounds like a terrible person,” Rumplestiltskin huffed.

Bae chuckled. “Maybe. Maybe I am too, for hating the other version of myself for existing.”

Rumplestiltskin leaned forward over the table. “No, Bae, _I’m_ a terrible person. But hating the other Rumplestiltskin isn’t why.”

He sat back again, taking a bite out of the burger. “Hm. Not bad.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumplestiltskin confronts more of his past, and learns some interesting new information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, everyone in this chapter is pretty horrible, so bear with me, lol.
> 
> ALSO, the first little bit was meant to be at the end of chapter 2, but I accidentally left it off. And it bothers me, so I'll leave it as it is for now but eventually I'll go back and put it where it's supposed to be, lol. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

After eating at the tavern, Baelfire retreated to wherever it was he lived, which he insinuated was near or with his in-laws. Rumplestiltskin had no desire to meet with his jailors at that moment, so he returned to the ugly pink house.

He thought about what his son had said about his wife…or who _he_ felt to be his wife.

He’d never really believed in a higher power, considering _himself_ to be the highest power there was. But he supposed being in Hell had to mean that there was a Heaven, and therefore, _someone_ was up there running things.

So what kind of god allowed for the creation of an entire realm of people…only for them to seen as lesser beings? Mere _shadows_ of greater people?

Baelfire didn’t choose to come into existence the way he did, why was he to be punished by simply not being the “ _original”_ Baelfire?

Somewhere in the recesses of his memory, Rumplestiltskin thought he recalled a story about a rabbit… _no_ …a toy rabbit. Where had he heard that story?

Oh…yes… _she’d_ been reading it aloud by the fire. He’d been spinning, pretending he didn’t hear her.

“Real isn’t how you are made,” he quoted quietly to the empty house. “Once you become Real, you can’t be unreal.”

 

It could have been days, or it could have been years. Rumplestiltskin suspected that time was an altogether different concept in the Underworld. But then, after being alive for centuries on end, it wasn’t really anything new to him.

He hadn’t seen Baelfire since the day at the pub, and he lived in a gnawing fear that maybe he’d moved on. He refused to go looking, just in case he was right.

Searches through the house revealed absolutely nothing that could provide him with power. Some things he recognized from his castle back home, but they were still worthless objects. Why it had all been accumulated here, he had no clue, but it just figured that the Underworld would give him the house that appeared to double as a landfill.

He found the spinning wheel in the attic, not entirely surprised to see it. He carried it downstairs, along with a box of carded wool.

He hadn’t spun anything but gold for as long as he could remember, but the quiet monotony of spinning remained the same. Spin the wheel, feed the wool, don’t let it snag.

At one time, spinning had been the one and only thing that nearly silenced the constant voices in his head. Now that the voices were no longer there, his own thoughts felt deafening.

Was _this_ his hell? Sit cooped up in a house alone, overflowing with junk, with only a spinning wheel for company for the rest of eternity?

_“I think you’re just lonely…”_

He shook his head. _No_. None of that.

After a while he again felt the desire to eat, but he ignored it. There was no food in the house, and he had no desire to go back to the pub.

“Really? You’re just gonna rot here forever?”

Rumplestiltskin jumped, almost falling off of his stool. “Bae?” he said, his voice croaking from disuse. “What are you doing here?”

“I was curious when you didn’t come out of the house for such a long time,” Bae said. “I know time doesn’t feel real here, but damn, it’s been _months_.”

“When you’re as old as I am, time means nothing,” he said, still surprised that he’d really been spinning for months straight, unless Baelfire was being sarcastic.

“Well, you’re wasting away here. Don’t you get hungry?”

His mutinous stomach chose just then to growl. “What difference does it make? It’s not like I’m going to die. Already did that.”

“You can still waste away,” Bae said. “People do. They stop eating, stop existing. They give up hope that they’ll ever complete their Unfinished Business and they just become _nothing_. Then they either just float around like ghosts for the rest of forever, or they throw themselves into the River.”

Rumplestiltskin thought back to that wraith-like girl in the tavern. “I see. And what do you mean, River? What river?”

“The River of Souls,” Baelfire said. “Didn’t Arthur…never mind. It’s where the people go who don’t pass on. If you or I were to fall in, even accidentally, our souls would be lost forever.”

Rumplestiltskin’s face broke in a slow smile. “You mean…there _is_ a way to die in the Underworld…”

Baelfire’s eyes widened. “No… _no!_ That’s not what I… _Christ_! I only told you so you could be careful! You’re not throwing anyone in there! I won’t let you!”

Rumplestiltskin giggled. “Like you can stop me! But don’t you worry your little head about it. I’ll make sure it’s no one you’ll particularly miss. Unless you count your in-laws.”

Before Rumplestiltskin could react, Baelfire had slammed him into the wall, a strong arm lodged against his throat.

“You’re not the _Dark One_ here…Father. You’re no stronger or weaker than the rest of us. I will _not_ let you take away anyone’s chances of moving on. I’ll throw you in that fucking river myself, if I have to!”

“You wouldn’t…” Rumplestiltskin growled. “Think you’ll ever pass on after murdering your own father?”

“Maybe. Maybe my Unfinished Business is to make sure you never hurt another _soul_ again.”

“Then _do it_.”

Baelfire bared his teeth, breathing heavily, then with a final shove, released Rumplestiltskin. “I should never have come here,” he whispered. “I don’t even know why I bothered.”

“Neither. Do. I,” Rumplestiltskin hissed.

Rumplestiltskin’s anger lasted exactly as long as it took for his son to slam the door behind him. Afterward he just felt immensely tired…like his years had finally caught up with him.

He tried to tell himself that it was better; didn’t want Bae hanging around, pestering him to be _better_ , as if he were some great and mighty saint. As if he were _gifting_ Rumplestiltskin with his presence.

No. He didn’t need Bae. In fact the boy was by far better off without him.

Rumplestiltskin sat back down at his spinning wheel and spun, thinking of all the possibilities afforded him with this new revelation.

“River of Souls…” he whispered, smirking.

 

His first target would have, by far, been that Arthur twat. But he was always surrounded by people, and Baelfire had been annoyingly right about one thing. Rumplestiltskin was no more powerful than anyone else, here. He certainly didn’t have physical strength on his side.

At least he didn’t have a bum leg here. Small mercies.

But he wanted to see this river himself, so he took a stroll to the docks.

If he’d expected a normal, trickling stream, he’d have been mistaken. The river shared the same eerie red hue as the rest of the Underworld, but darker.

Rumplestiltskin stepped carefully to the edge, making sure he stood well in the open, and not where anyone could sneak up on him and push him over. There had to be plenty of people in Hell who hated Rumplestiltskin. Of _any_ variety. So he was taking no chances.

The water rippled and splashed like real water, with shapes moving just beneath the surface. What could have been mistaken as fish at first, actually looked to be _people_ , swimming and drifting around, eyes and mouths gaping open grotesquely. If he concentrated, he realized the howling of the wind was actually the wailing of those wretched souls.

He heard footsteps, unhurried, but not discreet. So he stood still, looking out over the water as if waiting for a nice sunset.

“If you’re here to push me in,” he said to whoever it was. “You’ll want to hurry. It’s nearly Happy Hour at the pub. You wouldn’t want to miss it.”

“Haven’t had a drop of alcohol since I got here,” said a voice that was eerily familiar. “No taste for it. Part of my punishment, I’m sure.”

He turned around, eyes widening to see his wife standing a few feet behind him, dressed in the peculiar manner of the rest of the town, so that he almost didn’t recognize her.

Or maybe…he’d forgotten what she _looked_ like.

She looked older, but still attractive, though not nearly as much as he remembered. Her curly brown hair and pale blue eyes seemed almost repellant to him, because all they did was remind him of _softer_ curls and _far_ more beautiful blue eyes.

Still…he clearly had a type.

“The rumors are true,” she said wryly. “Ding dong, Rumplestiltskin is dead.”

“Milah,” he said, with obviously faked cordiality. “That song is reserved for the Wicked Witch, and as far as I know the world hasn’t gotten rid of her just yet.”

“God, you got old,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “And you’ve gained weight.”

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you,” he droned. “I was distracted by your crow’s feet. Did you really come out here just to trade barbs with me, dearie?”

She shrugged. “Just wanted to see it for myself.”

“You must be _the other_ Rumplestiltskin’s ex-wife.”

“No,” she said, strolling over toward the water, remarkably confident he wouldn’t push her. “That Milah got thrown into the River. By the other Rumplestiltskin.”

He tittered, clapping his hands. “Is that so?! Oh, well, perhaps that version _isn’t_ such a disappointment!”

“Isn’t it something?” she continued, ignoring his flamboyance. “All of _us_ are dead, and two Killians still walk the earth. I hear tell that Rumple died _saving_ him.”

“Does it sting? Knowing that in the end, the two of them loved one another more than either of them ever loved _you_?”

She cut her eyes to him, clenching her jaw. “Not any more than it must sting you that no one has _ever_ loved you.”

He placed his hand to his chest in mock affront. “Testy, testy! Although, I suppose I would be too if I knew that there’s a universe where my lover is married to my grandson’s mother.”

Milah narrowed her eyes. “What? Are you talking about Henry?”

He giggled again. “Yes, in the _real_ world, Princess Emma is now wed to Captain Hook. _Isn’t it something_?”

He delighted in her sudden, slightly green tone.

“What are you doing here?” he asked more seriously. “Bae said he didn’t even think the Wish created you. Either he was lying, or you haven’t made yourself known to your own _son_.”

“You spoke to Baelfire?” she asked, surprised. “W…when?”

“You’re serious. You’ve both been here _how_ long, and you never spoke to him?” he took a step forward, growling. “Did you _ever_ love him?”

“Of _course_ I love him!” she cried. “I just couldn’t bear to see him! To have to explain…”

“What, that you _abandoned_ him when he was five? That you wanted to live with your pirate lover more that you wanted to watch him grow up? That he was _dispensable_ in your life?!”

“I didn’t abandon _him_!” she screamed. “I left _you!_ And not a day went by that I didn’t regret leaving him to be raised by a _coward_!”

“Nice try, dearie,” he hissed, grabbing her wrist. “That word doesn’t have the same impact as it used to.”

“What are you going to do?” she asked lowly. “Throw me into the river like the other one? Bae would _never_ forgive you.”

Rumplestiltskin smirked and tightened his grip. “Uh uh oh, dearie. He doesn’t know you even _exist_ , remember?”

“Then you’d better go ahead and do it. Because if you don’t, I’ll find him right now and tell him how you _crushed_ my heart and murdered me.”

He tilted his head from side to side, as if considering. “You make a compelling argument. You’re right, better make sure you _don’t_.”

He watched the color drain out of her face and she started to try and pull away, but he got both hands on her arms and started to drag her to the edge when something caught his attention from the corner of his eye.

It was a boat, which was interesting enough, because who would ever take a rickety old boat out in _that_ water? But it was the person _in_ the boat who made his breath catch.

He was distracted just long enough for Milah to get the upper hand, and she wrenched away, making him lose his balance and nearly tip over into the water. By the time he’d righted himself, Milah was high-tailing it back up the dock, and when he turned back to look out at the water, the woman and the boat were both gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who could the person in the boat be?! *gasps*


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumple finds out who was really in the boat...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From here on out is a minor content warning for mentions of past starvation and abuse, and what could be considered a sort of eating disorder. Nothing too graphic, though. If you need specifics before reading, feel free to message me! Thanks for reading!

He tried to convince himself that he had been seeing things. Who knows, perhaps the Underworld creates hallucinations to torment you, or maybe the River projects images to try and temp you into the water, like a Siren.

But he couldn’t stop _thinking_ about it. It had been _her_. Her long, curling hair flowing in the breeze, her tiny form looking almost childlike from a distance.

_Belle._

Surely he was wrong, though. He _wanted_ to be wrong. He didn’t want to think of Belle in the Underworld. She didn’t _belong_ in the Underworld.

But even still, he went back out to the dock the next day, and the next. It was impossible to arrive at the same time every day, since it was never night and there was no sun to tell time by. But he tried very hard to make it regular, even if that meant walking around the town to sync to their schedule, and eating at regular intervals just to keep time.

Eventually he started to give up, cursing himself eleven kinds of fool for even trying. Even if there _had_ been a woman out on the water, it probably hadn’t been _Belle_.

But he stood out at the dock, for a lack of anything better to do, watching the souls swim around. He wondered what would happen if he brought bread crumbs to toss out to them.

It was then that he saw her again, rowing out into the water.

He _hadn’t_ been imagining it! It was her, it _had_ to be. He went back up the dock then started skirting the edge of the lake, trying to find where the boat had come from. He had to lose sight of her for a time while he went around some warehouses, which caused his nonexistent heart to lodge in his throat, but at last he came to a small boat launch, and he could still see her, drifting slowly in the waves.

She’d stopped rowing, and sat staring down into the water like he had been. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw her mouth move, and wouldn’t that be just like her? Talking to a river of damned souls.

He thought this would be enough; just _seeing_ her, but maybe it would be better to leave her alone. He’d already ruined her life, he didn’t want to ruin her afterlife, too.

But then she was standing, and the boat was tilting dangerously. She wasn’t…she _wouldn’t_ …fuck…no!

“BELLE!” he screamed.

Her head whipped up, which caused the boat to rock even more, and she waved her arms like a propeller to keep her balance.

Rumplestiltskin ran to very edge of the water, feeling it lap at his boots. It was _extraordinarily_ cold, freezing his toes even through the thick leather. He felt an instant draining, even worse than the sudden sensation of losing his power due to Belle’s kiss. _Much_ worse.

He took a hasty step back, watching Belle helplessly.

She righted herself, then sat down hard. The water splashed, though he didn’t think it touched her, and the boat thankfully didn’t tip.

After a moment she stared out over at him, then eventually patted around, presumably for her oars, then she stared out over the water, where both oars had slipped out of the boat, and out of reach.

“Wait!” he called. “Hold on!”

He looked around, frantic, but didn’t see another boat, and it was too far to throw a rope.

He cursed his lack of powers more than ever. “Stay still!” he called. “I’m going to find a boat!”

He ran, fearing in the very depths of his being that when he returned, he would see nothing but an empty boat. He ran back through the marina, for _surely_ if there was one boat, there must be another one. But he saw nothing but abandoned-looking warehouses.

Then he saw someone jogging along the pier, and he recognized his son’s gait instantly. Some things didn’t change as one got older, it seemed.

“Bae!” he called, running to him. “Bae! Wait!”

“I don’t wanna talk to you,” Baelfire said, not stopping.

“No, please, son! I need your help!”

Bae paused, looking at him, then toward the water. “Oh ho no, if you think for one minute that I’m gonna go to the river with you…”

“I’d never do that to you,” Rumplestiltskin said, genuinely a little hurt. “Surely you know _that_ at least.”

“Maybe. But I wouldn’t put it past you to trick me into helping you _lure_ someone there.”

“Please, Bae, Neal, _whatever._ There’s someone in danger and she needs _help_. I need a boat.”

Bae stared him down. “You’re serious?”

“ _Yes_ , please, I think…I think she may have been about to jump. But now she’s lost her oars.”

“Fine,” he huffed. “But I swear if this is some kind of trick…”

“Yes, yes, you’ll never forgive me, hate me forever. Now, do you know where to find a boat?”

“This way,” Bae said, turning to jog the other direction. He led Rumplestiltskin to a rickety boathouse, which held some sort of skiff.

“Stay here,” Rumplestiltskin said, carefully lowering himself into the boat.

“What? No, I’m going to help you,” Bae said. “Or make sure you don’t do something horrible. Whichever comes first.”

“I’ll not have you near this river,” Rumplestiltskin said.

Bae hopped into the boat, ignoring him. “Too damn bad. You might need help balancing the weight, anyway.”

Too rushed to argue, Rumplestiltskin used the long stick to push them out into the water. As they drifted, white, transparent hands reached out of the water to grab at the boat, though they moved effortlessly through them. Bae took the stick, able to put more strength into it. “Keep a lookout,” he said.

It didn’t take long to spot the other boat again, and Rumplestiltskin heaved a sigh of relief to see her still sitting within.

“Damn, you weren’t lying,” Bae whispered, eyes wide.

“Get us closer,” Rumplestiltskin instructed.

Once they were near, he could see without the shadow of a doubt that it was really her. It was really Belle.

She sat hunched in the boat, watching them approach warily. She looked pale…unnaturally so. Not the soft white of her normal skin, with a rosy pink tint.

“I dropped my oars,” she said unnecessarily, and something pinched inside of him at the sound of her voice, though it seemed deeper and more monotone than he remembered.

“It’s alright,” he said, trying to pitch his own voice as gentle and soothing as he could, though it was entirely unfamiliar to him. From the corner of his eye he could see Bae looking at him in shock, but he ignored it. “Do you think you can get in here?”

She eyed their boat for a moment, then her own, then she stood up slowly, as Bae reached out to grip the side of her boat to help steady it.

“Easy,” Bae said. “Go slow.”

Rumplestiltskin held out his hands for her, wondering if she would even choose to take them. But reach for him she did, until her boat started to tip and she jolted back, overcorrecting the balance.

He shot forward, grabbing her around her waist and pulling her into the skiff, where she landed in a heap in his lap.

Bae had to hurry and lean the opposite direction to keep them from capsizing, but after a breathless moment of everyone holding stock still, the skiff settled.

“Thank God we didn’t lose _our_ oar,” Bae said, grabbing the stick.

Belle was still sitting frozen in his lap, her head pressed against his chest, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“Is she alright?” Bae asked in concern.

Belle lifted her head, slowly, dragging her eyes from a point on his chest up his face before settling on his eyes.

“R… _Rumple_?” she whispered. “Is it…is it _you_?”

“Yes,” he whispered back, feeling close to breaking apart. “It’s me.”

“Y…you’re here. I thought…I thought you couldn’t die.”

He huffed, trying for a laugh and failing miserably. “Seems even the devil can die.”

She lifted her hand, tentatively touching the side of his face. Her skin was ice cold. “You’re different.”

“Didn’t think I could get any uglier, did you?” he tried to joke. Before, she always reacted to his jokes. Whether she laughed, groaned, or scolded him. But Belle said nothing, just continued to stare at him like he was an alien creature, though she didn’t move from his lap. Damned if _he’d_ move _her._

Bae, blessedly, remained silent the trip back to the dock, though once they got there he hopped out and turned back to reach for her.

Once they were all on land, Rumplestiltskin ushered them all well away from the water, now desiring never to see it again.

“Belle,” he said, taking her by the shoulders. “What were you doing out there? You weren’t going to…”

“Jump?” she asked, with disheartening lack of interest. “No…I just…I just like to look at them, that’s all. Sometimes I wish I could help them.”

He smiled. At least _that_ sounded like the Belle he knew.

He gently squeezed her shoulders, feeling the chill of her skin even through the sweater she wore, as well as her bones. She was almost skeletally thin. Like…like someone who was about to starve to death.

He wished again that he could kill Regina, as well as the Charmings for leaving her in that tower.

Bae must have seen the darkening of his look, and took over, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Can we take you home, Belle? Where do you live?”

She shrugged, then nodded her head toward town. “Above the tavern.”

“The _tavern_?” Rumplestiltskin asked. She’d been living above the only place he’d ever gone in town and he’d never seen her?!

“I don’t go there much,” she answered his unspoken question, seeming to try to draw into herself. “My room doesn’t have windows. So I…I sleep out here sometimes.”

“I…” Rumplestiltskin opened his mouth to speak, but caught himself. There was no way she’d want to stay with _him_. He was just another one of her jailors. He looked at Bae pleadingly, but he winced in apology. Rumplestiltskin rejected that idea anyway. He didn’t want Belle anywhere _near_ his son’s in laws.

“I live in a house at the edge of town,” he said at last. All he could do was ask…and leave her completely free to say no. “It’s big, much too big for just me. Lots of rooms. They all have windows.”

Her eyes flashed with something that looked like hope, and he grabbed onto it with both hands. “Would you like to come with me, Belle?”

“And be your maid again?” she asked.

“No,” he said immediately. “No, Belle. Our deal is done. You can stay for as long or as short as you want…no strings attached.”

“But you said _forever_ ,” she pointed out. “Not the rest of my life. Aren’t I to assume forever is still happening?”

He couldn’t help but smile, enjoying seeing her busy brain at work. “But I sent you away, remember?” he didn’t _want_ to remind her of that, but damn it, he couldn’t have her thinking she was still under duress. “That voided the deal.”

The corners of Belle’s lips tipped up in the merest ghost of a smile, but it was enough for him. “I’ll go with you,” she said. “For _now_.”


End file.
